I left the details of the reign of terror to Lady Claire, our resident expert. There was no way I could have handled it myself.
Lady Claire immediately implemented a system to encourage informants. She brought back rationing, put up worker glorification posters, and began installing slogans with practiced ease. For some reason, the Parcionians were overjoyed; apparently, the setup was almost identical to their previous regime.
Furthermore, Claire revised the distribution and wage systems. Fairy-san joined in, purging corruption just for the fun of it. When she did things "just for fun," it meant corruption was effectively dead.
That level of severity was far too incompatible with someone like me. I was the type of person who looked at minor kickbacks, slacking salarymen, or people pocketing a little loose change and thought, "Maybe that’s just a business expense?" I just didn’t have the heart to throw a child soldier into a punishment cell for eating two army ration bento boxes, which they were prone to doing.
Granted, I’d kill anyone who pulled a knife instead of paying back a gambling debt without a second thought. But overall, I was a habitual offender when it came to disobeying orders myself. In that sense, I was probably more aligned with the Pirate Guild. Even if idiots were working to benefit the enemy, my approach would be to mix misinformation in with the truth and use them until they were spent.
Lady Claire, however, made them targets for crackdowns. She suppressed them thoroughly.
And yet, for some reason, the Parcionians were all smiles. Lady Claire's approval rating was skyrocketing. Even my own approval rating was shooting up after I declared I would be a strict ruler.
I... I honestly didn’t understand it. I thought I’d be scolded a bit more. I expected people to say I’d finally revealed my true form as a tyrant. I was prepared for condemnations like "You absolute monster!" Instead, the reporting was mostly along the lines of, "Well, it can't be helped when you're dealing with Parcion."
Just how much was Parcion hated by the rest of the galaxy?
Regardless, we demolished the slums—those labyrinths of idiotic illegal constructions—and forced the residents into jobs in the military or the mines. You might ask about human rights, but... well, they were happy.
"This is the first time a ruler hasn't abandoned us!" they cried. I guess that's one way to look at it.
Those with experience in agriculture and fishing were protected. I knew Lady Claire would handle that part well. She set up collective farms immediately. I found myself wondering if that was really okay, but the Parcionians were happy, so I let it be. The fishing industry also started looking up while keeping resource protection in mind.
Then, we built housing and developed the areas where the slums had been cleared. We improved the infrastructure that had been the primary cause of constant disease outbreaks, funded by Lepsitol's money and powered by Parcion's labor.
Both countries were smiling at this arrangement. As long as there was work and a prospect of money coming in, things could be managed by dissolving the costs into society through the accounting alchemy of the Lepsitol economy. Conversely, Parcion's labor costs were near zero—or rather, because they were absorbed into the social system, they didn't count as a direct cost.
However, Lepsitol was the type of suicidal case that faced economic collapse due to slapdash work. As a result, having Lepsitol handle Parcion's public works projects under the supervision of Chronos and Latarnia turned into a form of alchemy where money bubbled up infinitely...
It was terrifyiiiiiiiing!
Economics was terrifyiiiiiiiing!
I was absolutely terrified of economics, which felt several times scarier than any military force. it was the kind of ball-shrinking terror where everything would collapse the moment someone regained their sanity. A SAN Check seemed to pop up just when I’d forgotten about it.
For now, none of Parcion's planets were developed. It felt like they just had useless military armaments—huge quantities of old models, specifically. It would probably be fine until I died. The sight of an old Obachan opening bivalve shells by hand at the seafood processing plant would likely be gone in a few years. I decided to take some pictures while I could.
When I asked if things would change, I was told it might not, because they planned to turn it into a tourist resource. Apparently, labor costs were cheaper than machines there. Was that really how it worked?
When it came to education, we lacked experts—until I remembered Katori-sensei. Despite everything, he was a creature who called himself an educator.
"Teacher! I need educators, please!" I asked.
"I have a large number of disciples who hold teaching licenses and are currently idle," he replied.
And just like that, I had a massive haul of teachers. Teaching licenses were dead skills even in the Galactic Empire, after all.
With the teachers secured, we turned to the city's redevelopment.
"Claire, isn't this town kind of amazing?" I asked.
"Apparently, the streetscape from several hundred years ago remained intact. It emerged after the slums were removed," she explained.
It was a beautiful sight. To think they had defiled it with slums for so long. Were the Parcionians actually fools?
We developed the area further using the aesthetic sense of a Galactic Empire Person. I commissioned Rikochi and the Manga Research Club to create illustrations and photographic posters for the public road bike race's concept images. Then, Wifey and I held a competition for the finished designs.
"...Are the Parcionians actually fools?" Wifey asked, her voice dripping with exasperation.
I had to agree. "It seems they didn't find any value in this at all."
The poster featured a photo of me speeding across the Old Town Bridge on a bike. Alongside it, we displayed a playful version where I wore a Galactic Imperial Army combat suit and helmet, making me look like A Certain Rider. Bathed in the setting sun, it looked incredibly cool. I mean, it was me, but I didn't think I could ever look that good.
There was also a picture of me jumping a bike in an abandoned old quarry with napalm exploding in the background. I remember that shoot—I honestly thought I was going to die.
"Hmm... Hey, Saria. What do you think of this?" I asked, contacting him via correspondence course.
"What is it, calling me out of the blue like... Whoa, what is this?! This is cool!" Saria shouted.
"These are the concept images for the public road bike race we're holding in Parcion soon," Veronica added. "The results exceeded our expectations."
"Gunu-nu-nu-nu-nu! I want to participate!" Saria was clearly hooked.
"Should we ask Shiyun as well?" Veronica suggested.
"Wait, Wifey. Shiyun loves transformation hero series, so..."
Because Shiyun had been raised as a boy, she didn't care for magical girls; she loved transformation heroes.
"If she likes them, it's fine, isn't it?" Veronica countered.
"N-Nooo!"
I contacted Shiyun via correspondence course anyway. She beamed the moment she saw the concept images.
"Big Brother. I want to enter..." Shiyun said.
"You cannot," the Imperial Guard Captain immediately told her.
"W-We shall send athletes representing our country's prestige instead!" the Captain added, quickly shifting to the management side.
"By your will," the guards responded.
"And make the bikes even cooler!" Shiyun demanded.
"By your will!"
Oh boy... don't blame me for what happens next.
Thus, triggered by A Certain Rider-style marketing, serious contenders from two major countries joined the fray. Other nations that heard the rumors also joined in droves. Transformation hero videos sold like wildfire, and even in the Galactic Empire, which was facing a declining birthrate, merchandise that had been sluggish began selling like crazy. Even Rosaria joined in with a smile.
Uh... wait. What happened to the plan to use me as bait to lure out the Zen God Race within Parcion?
Um... does nobody remember that?
I see. Okay then.